Legends of Kanto: The Alchemist
by the verdant
Summary: A crossover of Pokémon and The Alchemist. A young shepherd from Kanto travels from his homeland in search of a treasure that he saw in a dream. Will he be able to fufill his own Personal Legend, or will he fall for the worlds greatest lie? Rated T just for safety. This is my first fanfic so play nice!
1. Prologue

**The beginning of what will hopefully be an amazing journey in feudal Kanto and Johto.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pok****é****mon or the novel The Alchemist **

Legends of Kanto: The Alchemist

Prologue

The Alchemist picked up a book that someone in the company had brought. Leafing through the pages, he found a story about Narcissus.

The alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a snivy who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty. He was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned. At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus.

But this was not how the author of the book ended the story.

He said that when Narcissus died, the goddess of the forest, Celebi, appeared and found the spirit of the lake, Lapras, which once swam in fresh water, now weeping in a lake of salty tears.

"Why do you weep?" the goddess asked.

"I weep for Narcissus," the lapras replied.

"Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus," they said, "for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand"

"But… was Narcissus beautiful?" the lapras asked.

"Who better then you to know that?" the goddess said in wonder. "After all it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!"

The lapras was silent for some time. Finally, she said:

"I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected."

"What a lovely story," the alchemist thought.

**A/N: Sorry that it is kinda short... next chapter will be much longer! If anyone is wondering, this story is set in the late 1700's to early 1800's so Pokéballs were not invented yet.**

**The novel that I am crossing with pokémon is The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. It is definitely one of my favorite books and if you haven't read it, I recommend it. **

**Of course, review if you can! This is my first fic, so play nice :) If anyone has any questions about my headcanons regarding the history of the pokémon verse, feel free to ask!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon or the novel ****The Alchemist **

Chapter 1

The boy's name was Cobalt. Dusk was falling as the boy arrived with his herd at an abandoned monastery. The roof had fallen in long ago, and an enormous oak tree had grown on the spot where the sacred pillar of Arceus once stood.

He decided to spend the night there. He saw to it that all the mareep entered through the ruined gate, and then laid some planks across it to prevent the flock from wandering away during the night. There were no growlithe in the region, but once a mareep had strayed during the night, and the boy had to spend the following day searching for it. After setting cleanse tags throughout the monastery, he swept the floor with his jacket and lay down, using the book he had just finished reading as a pillow. He told himself that he would have to start reading thicker books as they lasted longer, and made more comfortable pillows.

It was still dark when he awoke, and, looking up, he could see the stars and the fluttering of zubats through the half-destroyed roof.

"I wanted to sleep a little longer," he thought. He had dreamt the same dream that night as a week ago, and once again he had awakened before it ended.

He arose and, taking up his crook, began to awaken the mareep that still slept. He had noticed that, as soon as he awoke, most of his Pokémon also began to stir. It was as if some mysterious energy bound his life to that of the mareep, with whom he had spent the last two years, leading them through the countryside in search of food and water. "They are so used to me that they know my schedule," he muttered. Thinking about it for a moment, he realized that it could be the other way around: that it was he who had become accustomed to _their_ schedule.

But there were certain of them who took a bit longer to awaken. The boy prodded them, one by one, with his crook, calling each by name. He had always believed that the mareep were able to understand what he said. So there were times when he read them parts of his books that made an impression on him, or when he would tell them of the loneliness or the happiness of a shepherd in the fields. Sometimes he would comment to them on the things he had seen in the villages they passed.

But for the past few days he had spoken to them about only one thing: the girl, the daughter of a merchant who lived in the village they would reach in about four days. He had been to the village only once, the year before. The merchant was the proprietor of a dry goods shop, and he always demanded that the mareep be sheared in his presence, so that he would not be cheated. A friend had told the boy about the shop, and he had taken his mareep there.

"I need to sell some wool," The boy told the merchant. The shop was busy, and the man asked the shepherd to wait until the afternoon. So the boy sat on the steps of the shop and took a book from his bag.

"I didn't know shepherds knew how to read," said a girl's voice behind him.

The girl was typical of the region of Kanto, with flowing black hair, and eyes that vaguely recalled the Johto conquerors.

"Well I usually learn more from my sheep than from books," he answered. During the two hours that they talked, she told him she was the merchant's daughter, and spoke of life in the village, were each day was like all the others. The shepherd told her of the countryside of Kanto, and related the news from the other towns where he had stopped. It was a pleasant change from talking to his mareep.

"How did you learn to read?" the girl asked at one point.

"Like everybody learns," he said. "In school"

"Well, if you know how to read, why are you just a shepherd?"

The boy mumbled an answer that allowed him to avoid responding to her question. He was sure the girl would never understand. He went on telling stories about his travels, and her bright, Johto eyes went wide with fear and surprise. As time passed, the boy found himself wishing that the day would never end, that her father would stay busy and keep him waiting for three days. He recognized that he was feeling something he had never experienced before: the desire to live in one place forever. With the girl with the raven hair, his days would never be the same again.

But finally the merchant appeared, and asked the boy to shear four mareep. He paid for the wool and asked the boy to come back the following year.

And now it was only four days before he would be back in the same village. He was excited, and at the same time uneasy. Maybe the girl had already forgotten him. Lots of shepherds passed through, selling their wool.

"It doesn't matter," he said to his mareep. "I know other girls in other places."

But in his heart he knew that it did matter. And he knew that shepherds, like seamen, traveling salesmen, and ronin, always found a town where there was someone who could make them forget the joys of carefree wandering. The day was dawning and the shepherd urged his mareep in the direction of the rising sun.

"They never have to make any decisions," he thought. "Maybe that's why they always stay close to me."

The only things that concerned the mareep were food and water. As long as the boy knew how to find the best pastures in Kanto, they would be his friends. Yes, their days were all the same, with the seemingly endless hours between sunrise and dusk; and they had never read a book in their young lives, and didn't understand when the boy told them about the sights of the cities. They were content with just food and water, and, in exchange they generously gave of their wool, their company and, once in a while, their meat.

"If I became a monster today, and decided to kill them, one by one, they would become aware only after most of the flock had been slaughtered," thought the boy. "They trust me, and they've forgotten how to rely on their own instincts, because I lead them to nourishment."

The boy was surprised at his own thoughts. Maybe the ruined monastery, with the enormous oak growing from within, had been haunted. It had caused him to have the same dream for a second time, and it was causing him to feel anger toward his faithful companions. The boy was certain that he checked the building for gastleys, as well as the fact that he set his cleanse tags throughout the building, in order to dissuade any hypnos from eating his dreams.

He drank a bit from the sake that remained from his dinner of the night before, and he gathered his jacket closer to his body. He knew that a few hours from now, with the sun at its zenith, the heat would be so great that he would not be able to lead his flock across the fields. It was the time of day when all of Kanto slept during the summer. The heat lasted until nightfall, and all that time he had to carry his jacket. But when he thought to complain about the burden of its weight, he remembered that, because he had the jacket, he had withstood the cold of the dawn.

"We must be prepared for change," he thought, and he was grateful for the jackets weight and warmth.

The jacket had a purpose and so did the boy. His purpose in life was to travel, and, after two years of walking through Kanto, he knew all the cities of the region. He was planning, on this visit, to explain to the girl how it was that a simple shepherd knew how to read. That he had attended a seminary until he was sixteen. His parents had wanted him to become a sage, and thereby a source of pride for simple family of rice farmers. They worked hard just to have food and water, like the mareep. He had studied calligraphy, Japanese, and theology. But even as a child, he had wanted to know the world and this was much more important to him than knowing Arceus and learning about man's sins. One afternoon, on a visit to his family, he had summoned up the courage to tell his father that he didn't want to become a sage. That he wanted to travel.

"People from all over the world have passed through Cion, son," said his father. "They come in search of new things, but when they leave they are basically the same people they were when they arrived. They climb the mountain to see the tower, and they wind up thinking that the past was better than what we have now. They have blond hair, or dark skin, or strange pokémon, but basically they're the same as the people who live right here."

"But I'd like to see the pokémon in the towns where they live," the boy explained.

"Those people, when they see our land, say that they would like to live here forever," his father continued.

"Well, I'd like to see their land, and see how they live," said his son.

"The people who come here have a lot of money to spend, so they can afford to travel," his father said. "Amongst us, the only ones who travel are the shepherds."

"Well, then I'll be a shepherd!"

His father said no more. The next day, he gave his son a pouch that held three ancient gold coins.

"I found these coins one day in the fields. I wanted them to be a part of your inheritance. But use them to buy your flock. Take to the fields, and someday you'll learn that our countryside is the best, our pokémon the strongest, and our women the most beautiful."

And he gave the boy his blessing. The boy could see in his father's gaze a desire to be able, himself, to travel the world. A desire that was still alive, despite everything he did do bury it, over the dozens of years, under the burden of struggling for water to drink, food to eat, and the same place to sleep every night of his life.

The horizon was tinged with red, and suddenly the sun appeared. The boy thought back to that conversation with his father, and felt happy; he had already seen many castles and meet many women (but none the equal of the one who awaited him several days hence). He owned a jacket, a book that he could trade for another, and a flock of mareep. But, most important, he was able every day to live out his dream. If he were to tire of the fields of Kanto, he could sell his mareep and go to the sea. By the time he had enough of the sea, he would already have known other cities, acquired stronger pokémon, meet other women, and found other chances to be happy.

"I couldn't have found Arceus in the seminary," he thought as he looked at the sunrise.

Whenever he could, he sought out new roads to travel. He had never been to the ruined monastery before, in spite of having traveled through these parts many times. The world was huge and inexhaustible; he had only to allow his mareep to see the route for a while, and he would discover other interesting things. The problem is that they don't realize that they're walking new roads every day. They don't see that the fields are new and the seasons change. All they think about is food and water.

"Maybe we're all that way," the boy mused. "Even me… I haven't thought of other women since I met the merchant's daughter."

Looking at the sun, he calculated that he would reach Hanada before midday. There, he could exchange his book for a thicker one, fill his bottle of sake, shave, and have a haircut; he had to prepare himself for his meeting with the girl, and he didn't want to think about the possibility that some other shepherd, with a larger flock of mareep, had arrived there before him and asked for her hand.

"It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting," he thought, as he looked again at the position of the sun, and hurried his pace. He had suddenly remembered that, in Hanada, there was an old channeler woman who interpreted dreams.

**Translations: **

**Cion- Lavender Town**

**Hanada- Cerulean City**

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, things have been busy lately...**


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